VII - Firelit Alehouse

A Chapter by Tertia

Water sparkles from the spout of a stone fish making ripples of light across the pool. Further on behind there is an overgrown path that looks like it was part of a large garden, now long forgotten and as Briggs cups his hands to drink, I know we have reached civilisation. ‘It’s sweet and pure like an energy drink’ he says, standing and smiling. I watch a coy flitting around and our canteens bubbling out air as I re-fill them, knowing deep inside we will not need them, I know we will reach people soon.

‘We are somewhere, I don’t know where, but somewhere’ I say tipping up a canteen, my dry lips tasting it’s cold metal and the cool water inside, I feel energised as the rich taste engorges my mouth; there is a taste of minerals. I drink the whole canteen.

‘South Sesuthia’ Briggs says pragmatically. His eyes scour the landscape, but there are only trees. ‘We’re on hard ground now. He stamps his foot on the grass, grinning inanely at me as there is no give.

‘Yes, Briggs’ I lie on a hot flat stone that edges the pool, feeling bloated from water, but revitalised. The sun seems to want burn a hole in my eyes or head, the heat is in my hair and on my skin. The sun is high and Briggs is already snoring, his head against the trunk of a large oak tree.

The sun has moved around and we are walking, the path giving rise to low green hills and barren windswept trees. We look at each other realising we have made it, made it somewhere at least. ‘Do you think of Tina?’ I said with a spring in my step.

‘No’ he replied, trudging along. Instinctively his eyes scanning around, looking for danger. He checks his weapon as has been ingrained in him, not from his training, but his experiences of war.

‘You must do, you spent time with her’ I remembered her, she was strong willed and good looking.

‘Not much, to be honest, Sir. Anyways I’ve got a wife and three kids back home,

‘Where is home, Briggs? I never asked’

‘Pusia in the south, I had a good job and a good life there, but god knows what’s happened to all that now, now the ‘Nars’ have taken control’

‘What did you do? I said looking at him, catching his eye. I noticed he was walking in a defensive stoop.

‘I was a ferryman on the great river Lasara’ he said his posture changing, his back becoming straight and his chest puffing out.

‘Ah, that’s a dangerous job, I’ve heard about its tricky waters and fatal back-currents’

Lasara ran through a large part of Medvia, from north east to south west touching on many of its cities and towns. At its widest it was over a mile across making it possible for only a few bridges. There was a bridge at Pusia which put the city in favour.

‘Many have been lost over the years, I took my turn on the lifeboats, but they can’t be everywhere’ Briggs said.

‘I gave Cultarr a message to give to Nola’ I said

‘Who?’ he said, his voice sharp and raised, he was sweating, his face red.

‘You know Nola from the house at Medvia’

‘What the hell did you do that for?’ He stood facing me, his legs astride, drinking from his canteen.

‘I wanted to let her know I was OK that’s all’ I said. I wasn’t used to being talked to like he had to me, but the unit was disbanded now he could say and act how he liked.

‘After she betrayed us, Boss?’

‘Yes, after she betrayed us’ There was a silence and then we walked on. Briggs kicked at the grass and stones on the path trying to get his temper out. ‘If Cultarr ever finds the house I suppose’ I added.

‘You didn’t tell him to talk to Tina did you?’

‘No’ I lied.

- I had told Cultarr that if he ever made it back across the mountains and I didn’t think he would, that he was to go to the house at Medvia. He was to cross the bridge from the north, turn right onto the first cobbled square and there on the right again was a house with sycamore trees around it. Those were my directions. He was to call for Nola and if she wasn’t there he was to ask for Tina. I told him they were both Medvians, but Narsian sympathisers. I told him to tell Nola from me, Alf that I was in Sesuthia and when the war had blown over I would be coming back for her. That was it, that was the message -

The lay of the land changed and the open pathway with views of distant hills became a muddy track in a wood. It was dark in the wood with a solid canopy of overhanging branches and it took a while for our eyes to adjust. I heard a rustling behind and naturally turned, only to see nothing but the leaf covered path. Briggs reacted, half stumbling as he clumsily turned. The trees had become closely knit making it like night, it was lush and wet like a jungle. My eyes scanned around, looking between trunks and boughs, we moved slowly, creeping along for a short while until there was a tap on my shoulder and a splatter of water and I saw the shadow of something above. I stood stock still and so did Briggs and we looked up to see hanging vines covered in moss that were gently swaying in the breeze; they dripping with water

‘This is spooky’ Briggs barked making an echo. Along the path there were moss covered stone slabs strewn that seemed to lie as they had fallen a long time before.

‘Keep going’ I whispered aware of the hush around us, the birds had stopped their twitter and crowing and it seemed that even the breeze had stopped to listen in. Up ahead in a small clearing there were more flat stones and on them the bones of those who had died there. I imagined a sacred torchlit vigil and a group of helpless victims being sacrificed. ‘Come on, let’s keep moving’ pulling my brain out of my thoughts.

‘Yeah’ Briggs said pushing the thick lemon yellow and green vines aside.

Dangling catkins brushed against my face as our pace picked up. I started into a jpg to get clear of the place and Briggs naturally followed suit, every wary of avoiding danger. One last glance back and some of the stones formed the shape of an altar; I felt sick. But as we ran it got lighter and soon our path joined another wider one and we flowed out into a wider more open space.

And there it was a building with only two windows, one on its lower level and one on its upper level. It was made of boulders with flattened sides, that seemed to have been placed together or formed as they fell. The door seeped out, light all around its edges, and had a large boss in the middle of its solid wooden face. The door was ajar. It was an alehouse, a pub, a tavern, a bar. We stood looking at the sight of it, realising we had no Sesuthian money, but also nothing to lose by going in.

‘Come on, Briggs’ I said and we breezed through the door. The slate floor was cold and shiny and the random stone bar was low with a thick varnished wooden top. There was no one around, all was still part from the flickering fire. My eyes strained to see in the low light, but the shape of the room could not be determined. There were too many dark corners. Beer barrels set an a line behind the bar, one with a tap, dripping Briggs moistened his lips, looking up at the beer mugs hanging. I reached for a mug, but froze when I heard the shuffling of feet.

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